


I Get to Love You

by mithrilstarlight



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 23:11:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17150849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mithrilstarlight/pseuds/mithrilstarlight
Summary: Ned chooses to not take his family south in favor of staying with Bran. As a result, a new option for his children's betrothals surfaces.





	I Get to Love You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mari_queen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mari_queen/gifts).



> For the gotsecretsanta gift exchange. I really hope you like it!

“No, Robert,” Ned said firmly. “I will not leave my family, not with Bran in the state he’s in.”

The king glared for a moment, but conceded to his friend with a nod. “You were always about family, Ned,” he grumbled. “Perhaps when your son has healed you and your family can visit King’s Landing. Your daughters should see the court.”

Ned hummed quietly as he stood. “Yes, perhaps when my son has healed.”

* * *

Catelyn rolled over, draping an arm across her husband’s chest as they lay in bed. “What are you reading?”

Ned was slow to reply, his lips moving silently as he read the letter. Setting it aside, he slipped the now-free hand around Cat’s waist and pulled her in. “Apparently, the Tyrells are seeking a match for their daughter Margaery,” he mumbled between the little kisses he placed on his wife’s face.

“And what does that have to do with us?”

Ned sighed and rolled onto his back. “The king rejected their proposal to betrothe her to Joffrey,” he said. “He’s probably holding out for me to agree to the match with Sansa.”

Cat reached out and with a finger she turned turned her husband’s face back towards her. “You’re not answering my question, my love.”

Ned melted under her touch, a content smile gracing his lips as he chuckled. “They’ve offered their daughter for Robb.” He brushed his wife’s hair from her face and stroked her cheek. “I don’t know what the right decision is. I want our children to be safe and happy and the south is good for neither.”

Taking the hand on her face, Cat placed a kiss on Ned’s palm. “You forget that I am Southron, dear husband,” she teased. Interlacing her fingers with his, she lay her head on his chest. “Our boys will stay here, so does it matter where their wives are from? We only need to find Northern boys for our girls if we do not want them going south.”

“Then I will write back and agree to the match.”

* * *

Robb bounced in place as the Tyrell retinue entered Winterfell’s gates. His palms itched with anticipation and blood pounded in his ears. A sudden pinch on his arm stilled him and he looked over to his little sister, Sansa.

“Don’t worry,” she mouthed.

The carriage door opened and a young woman with long brown curls emerged. She was dressed in a deep green dress and white cloak. An older man and woman, the Lord and Lady Tyrell, followed.

“Lord Stark,” Mace said, bowing as much as his girth would allow.

“Lord Tyrell.” He turned to his family, introducing them. “And this is my son and heir, Robb,” he finished.

Mace beamed and motioned for his daughter to come forward. “This is my daughter, Margaery. They make a fine match, don’t you think?”

Ned smiled and took his wife’s arm. “Yes, a fine match indeed.”

* * *

Margaery stuffed her hands under her arms as she walked through the godswood with Robb at both their parents’ request.

“Are you nervous?”

She jumped and looked over to her soon to be husband. “No,” she replied hurriedly. “No, I’m just cold. How can you stand it?”

Robb laughed. “It’s still summer!” he cried.

Margaery huffed and looked back out at the trees. “Summer is warm and filled with flowers and sunlight. Not snow.”

“Here,” Robb started, reaching to take her hands in his. He lifted them and gently kissed her fingers. “Come, some wine will warm you up.”

Her face heated under his gaze and she let him lead her out of the wood.

* * *

“She’s so _pretty_ ,” Sansa whispered as Margaery walked through Winterfell’s little sept to join Robb. She was dressed in a flowing gown of gold with a beautiful maiden’s cloak in green. “I hope I’m half as pretty when I marry Joffrey.”

“You’re not going to marry Joffrey,” Arya mumbled, her nose wrinkling in disgust.

Sansa pouted, holding her head up higher. “Of course I will,” she replied. “I will be his queen.”

Arya snorted as she suppressed a laugh, earning a glance from their mother. When Catelyn had looked away and the ceremony was well underway, Arya leaned in closer to Sansa. “I heard Mother and Father talking. They want Northern families for us.”

“Liar!” Sansa hissed. Catelyn looked over again, this time with a stern glare. Sansa paled and looked down at her feet as Arya again shook with laughter.

* * *

“Where are all of your ladies?”

Sansa looked up from her stitches and shrugged. “I have Beth and Jeyne,” she said, nodding to the two northern girls.

Margaery blinked in surprise. “That’s it? Back in Highgarden I had all of my cousins and several girls from other families attending me.”

“It’s just… not like that here,” Sansa replied, returning to her needle. “The North is very big and there aren’t many noble families.”

Margaery was silent for a minute as she tied off a thread. “Well, then, we will simply have to be best friends until you are married off to some handsome lord.”

Sansa burst into a giddy smile. “Yes, I would very much like to be friends.”

* * *

Margaery stood in her shift, Robb undressing for their nightly bedding. “Do you believe that a husband and wife can truly love each other? And not when they chose each other, but were betrothed like us?”

Robb lifted his head from his work on his breeches and frowned. “Of course,” he replied.

“How do you know?” she pressed. She sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasped together with white-knuckled strength.

Robb knelt in front of her, taking her hands in his in the gentle way he always did. “Because my mother and father love each other very much. You’ve seen them,” he laughed. “Nothing in the world could separate them now.”

Margaery reached out and ran her fingers through her husband’s auburn curls. “Then I hope that we come to love each other the same way,” she whispered. Leaning forward, she placed a chaste kiss on Robb’s mouth.

* * *

Sansa wriggled under the blankets to get closer to Margaery and share her warmth. “It’s so unfair that Father won’t let me marry Joffrey,” Sansa pouted.

Margaery rolled her eyes. “King’s Landing is an awful place. Be glad that you are not going.”

“But I _love_ him.”

“And how do you know that?”

Sansa shrugged. “I just do. Don’t you love Robb?”

Margaery bit her lip. “In time, I will. I know that I miss him when he’s away like this. But you have to know someone to love them. Do you really know Joffrey?”

Sighing, Sansa shoved her hands under the pillow the two girls shared. “No,” she grumbled.

“Besides,” Margaery continued, “he is nowhere near as handsome as some of the Northern boys I’ve seen here.”

Sansa giggled, her face flushing as she buried it into the pillow. “Perhaps you’re right,” she said. She paused. “Do you miss Highgarden?”

“Of course. I miss the gardens and my brothers and my parents.” Margaery tugged Sansa’s hands out to hold them. “But I have a new family here with Robb and with you.”

“Until I am wed.”

Margaery smiled. “Yes, until you are wed. Which is why you absolutely _must_ marry a Northern lord so that I will always have you near.”

“Agreed. I would much rather have you than Joffrey.”

* * *

“What should we name him?” Margaery asked breathlessly as she held the tiny babe in her arms.

Robb perched himself on the edge of the bed, stroking the little child’s face. “I was thinking Rickard, for my grandfather,” he replied. Looking up to his wife’s sweat-drenched and exhausted face, he grinned. “The next one can have a Southron name, perhaps for your grandfather Luthor. Or Leyton. Whichever you prefer.”

Margaery rest her forehead against his shoulder, closing her eyes. “I think that would be wonderful,” she mumbled.

Robb kissed the top of her head and took the child into his own arms. “I love you, Margaery.”

“I love you, too.”


End file.
